


Loser Admirer

by tear_dropxo



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tear_dropxo/pseuds/tear_dropxo
Summary: He was just an idiotic fool that never realised that he was too foolish to believe in love. NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED: Ayako's repsonse





	1. Chapter 1

_Ayako-san, you may not know my name but that's okay._

_I'm not here today to introduce myself, nor do I want to be some loser admirer._

_But I hope that somewhere in your heart you have some idea as to who I might be. And I hope that the person in your mind right now really is me._

_But I won't complain if it's not. I won't throw a fit either. Because I have said it, didn't I?_

_I won't take the role of some loser admirer._

_So I won't get upset. Whoever you may be thinking I might be._

_I know that someone like me probably would not be noticed by you._

_And I think you would have not noticed me either, if I haven't decided to stick close to you._

_But I'm not angry about that. Not at all._

_I have accept it. Completely._

_And that's why I'm writing this to you._

_Because I finally decided to stop loving you._

* * *

"There," Ryōta said, licking the envelope close and threw the paper into her shoe locker, peeking from side to side into the empty corridor before turning around and walking out into the darkness ahead, torch light on as he walked his way out of the school, across the yard into the basketball team's changing room, uneasiness dwelling in the back of his head as he thought back to the letter but he shook his head and kept his gaze ahead, forced his legs to move forward, telling himself that it is better this way- that it couldn't have been any other way.

* * *

_This might not be affecting you much- even might be rolling your eyes at the letter right now—but I really mean. So don't crumble the letter up, don't throw it away either. Not now. Not until I finish._

_I know that between the two of us—between this friendship— there was never any space for love. And I have been a fool to believe in it. To relish in it. To dream about it. To dream about you._

* * *

The ball bounced hard on the floor, echoing just like the silence in his heart, the rough texture of the ball hitting against his hand and a familiar feeling settled over Ryōta as he dribbled across the court, pouring himself into his rhythm, into the familiar steps and turns, moving through the stillness in the court with practice steps and twist, dribbling high, dribbling low.

His legs glided across the floor, into the key, charging in, circling around, his quick feet working about, hands reaching for the ball, keeping it still, keeping close, walking one, two, three, raising it and letting go.

It went in, swishing through the hoop, bouncing once, twice and he grabbed it.

* * *

_That's why, even if I might not know how long I can keep it in, hold it in and suppress it, but one day I'll definitely turn it to dust, to ashes._

* * *

He charged, circling around the key, the ball firm in his grip as he let go, blurring himself into his feelings, dipped himself deeper into his misery, dipped himself further into the cries of his heart.

He dipped himself deeper, deeper, deeper.

* * *

_No matter how much I would spell it out for you, at the end you would still not understand it._

_And I don't think I'd be able to make you either. I think when it comes down to it, you would just laugh at me._

_Because someone like you would definitely not understand the painful pangs of a heart that simply feels too much._

_You always seemed to be in control. Never gave too much of yourself away. Always so in check that I thought I could loose you up a bit. Shake you up enough to notice me._

_But at the end it was only me that got out of bounds. Me, that lost my cool. Me, that was totally humiliated. To think that someone like you- someone like Ayako could ever love me. . . ._

* * *

Ryōta was inside his own world. Inside his own game. Inside a realm where no-one could disturb him.

Even when the bell rung. Even during break when Akagi waltzed inside the room and dragged him out.

Together with the ball Ryōta played on. Evaded teachers shouting and pointing at him for playing on site. For jumping the steps in two whilst the ball still bounced in between.

He was relishing it, enjoying it. Together with the ball. Together with his long-time friend. His only passion. His only possession.

The only thing he had left.

* * *

_It wouldn't be too harsh to say that I'd never got a chance in the first place._

_It was a fact that I ignored. A fact, that I didn't want to believe in. Just like you didn't believe in me on that day._

_But that's okay. Because I am not upset. I won't be some loser admire._

_I'll be just myself—that idiotic fool that never realised he was too foolish to believe in love._

* * *

Ryōta danced his way to the roof, ball his bouncing besides him, bypassing the many people streaming in his direction with skill alone, vaguely wondering whether it was lunch already, whether it was time to go home already, but he moved on. On and on and on. Breathing insides his own realm. Own world. And ignored those voices that called for him, told him to stop, to come back and apologise.

 _Man, those teachers_ , he thought, hoping all might that it won't be her voice to call him out next.

But she wouldn't.

She wasn't here. Shouldn't be here. And even if she was—someone like Aya-chan definitely wouldn't cry out to him. Even if she saw him. Even if she knew him. Someone like her would definitely not get in touch with someone like him just for good sakes' alone.

* * *

_The fool who believed_ _that you could love_ _me_ _. B_ _elieved that_ _we_ _have had_ _a chance._

_But_ _that's_ _okay. I'm not mad. I'm not upset. I wasn't good enough. You didn't like me enough._

_I have always believed_ _that_ _this day would come._

_Th_ _is_ _day,_ _when_ _you would tell me you would love someone else._

_Someone better than myself._

* * *

The ball fell out of his hands and he went for it, reeled the ball back in and hoped the sensation on his fingertips wouldn't leave him so that the bulging size of his emotions kept growing, kept distracting him. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about it at all. With closed eyes, with that familiar beating in his chest, Ryōta played on, still in rhythm, still in his mind, still on the roof, still in his bounds, blocking the world out.

* * *

_But it's okay. I'm not sad. I have always known that someone like you could never potentially love me._

_That's why I decided to stop loving you._

_There's no point to hold onto those clingy feelings._

_But I hope you're able to see the future you're looking for in someone's arms._

_I wish the best for you. I really do._

_So let's put an end to this._

* * *

"Ryōta. . ."

The ball fell out of his hands, hitting the ground and shaking the railing into a song of shrilly mental cries. He turned slowly, gazing at her straight into the eye and ignored the letter clutched inside her hand, ignored her wide eyes, her open mouth that was too speechless to allow words to escape now. He sighed, drove a hand through his hair and tried to smile with a careless shrug. "Yeah?"

"This letter from you. . . ," she said at last, hesitating, wetting her lips and clearing her thoughts before she raised her voice again, clutching the letter tighter. "Is it true?"

Ryōta stared at her. Stared at her hard. Could see the confusion in her eyes, in her soul, and he tried to speak as calm as possible—as nonchalant as possible.

"Do you. . .want it to be a lie?"

His words hit her like a bucket of water suddenly poured over her and she shivered. Ryōta grabbed his ball and walked inside the building. Ayako followed him, opened the door wide after he closed it. "So it is true..."

"Did. . . .you want me to lie about it?" Ryōta's voice quivered but he steeled it quickly and turned away from the stairs he was about to go down. "I can do that for you too. Here, give me the letter and I'll tear it up for you. We can just forget about it if it troubles you that much. It didn't matter in the first place, did it?"

* * *

_It's time we end this._

* * *

Ayako glanced at his outstretched hand and shook her head, waving the letter about. "I can't just forget about this! Before I could just ignore it—brush it off as though it was nothing-  _that it didn't matter._ But now. . ." she shook her head, beautiful locks whirling about and Ryōta was transfixed, had to pinch himself to keep himself under control, to not get reeled in by her beauty. No, no more. He can't do that anymore. "How can you just expect me to _forget_  about it?"

"Then just  _ignore_  it. It's not like the matter changed. It's not like your affection for me increased. You still like me the same. Nothing changed. _"_  Ryōta rose a brow and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, kind of gazing away when he mumbled. "So what's wrong with me telling you?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Ayako brushed the strands of her hair away from her face. "Honestly, Ryōta I'm glad you like me but..."

"But what?" Ryōta challenged, his brows furrowed, throwing her challenging look, "that you don't like me back? I know that already. I'm okay with that already. I've said it, didn't I? I won't be some loser admirer. I'm getting over it so don't keep pulling me back."

* * *

_After all, friends is all we're going to be right?_

_Let's keep it like that._

_Now and forever._

* * *

"That wasn't what I meant to say! Ryōta, if you'd just listen for a second then we could have talked about this—"

"What's there to talk about?" his eyes fasted on her face unbelievably and she stared back, just as determined. "If you're worried about my performance then don't worry. My plays won't be affected by this—not by something like  _this_."

"But Ryōta—"

" _Miyagi,"_ he corrected and hated the way his heart  _still_  flipped by the sound of her voice.

But his heart had ached long enough now. It was long since used to this pain—to this feeling. His hands fisted inside his pockets until he heard it crack. "It's Miyagi to you. And you can stop rubbing the whole thing under my nose. What were you even trying to achieve by coming here?"  _Sizzle hope inside my chest?_

Ryōta looked away and felt the acid dripping from his lips. "Seriously, a simple 'No' is enough. I understand that sort of language, Ayako—"

" _Aya-chan,"_  Ayako corrected him suddenly, "You might have told me to call you  _Miyagi_  but I never given  _you_  the permission to call me  _Ayako_. So don't call me that."

"That's hardly the point."

"Doesn't matter,  _Ryōta._ I have told you this before and I will say it over and over again. Until  _you'_ ll understand  _me."_ Ayako focused on him with such intensity, he couldn't help but wonder whether he'd walked into the den of open fire.

He shook his head and turned away, but she only held onto his arm and held him in place. She jabbed a finger at his chest with a hand placed on her hips. "I don't want you to mock me with letters like this—"

"I wasn't mocking you. I was plainly stating my feelings—"

Ryōta stopped, listening to the acidic laughter spilling from Ayako's lips.

It was her turn to shook her head unbelievably. Ryōta watched her stare deeply into his eyes and tried to pick up the emotions reflected within her eyes only to realise that he recognised none. She held up the letter with such directness and poised, he knew she was barely containing her own anger. "This is not a confession, Ryōta."

Ryōta laughed quietly beneath his breath and raised a brow. "Oh really? And why is that?

She looked away and a heavy silence took over them. Ryōta rubbed his neck, shuffled his feet a little before canting his head back at her. She was looking at him with such a troubled expression that he couldn't help but shrug off, the curves of his lips slid downward but he tried to keep it up anyway, tried to sound calm enough to dismiss it all, but Ayako beat him to it.

She sighed and canted her head to look at him. "Please Ryōta, don't send me this kind of stuff. I'm not as strong as you. I cannot endure as much as you do. Not being able to reciprocate hurts me too. I too do have a hear that simply feels too much." she tired to smile but the tips of her lips sagged to much.

Ryōta tried to laugh, tried to mirror her attempts to lift the suffocating air thickening between them. He waited for her to turn, to leave, and listened to her fading steps before he allowed himself to sigh. He leaned on the wall, heart hammering inside his chest, squeezing tightly, brewing up inexplicable pain that wouldn't leave regardless the amount of breaths he took. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the welling hotness spreading inside his eyes and trailing down his check.

_Even though I thought I accepted it. . ._


	2. Part Two

The atmosphere of the basketball court was almost tangible, embodied by knitted eyebrows and flustered expressions, tickled with perspiration and effort. The taste of stress and physical extortion lay, particularly, thick on Ryōta’s tongue as he pivoted and passed the ball across the court. Mitsui scored another three-pointer and furthered the gap between the upper- and underclassmen.

Ryōta swiped his white wrist band across his forehead, soaking up the beads of sweat as he tried his best to drone out Ayako’s voice from the side-line as she complemented Mitsui for his score and lectured for his unmaintained posture during the shoot.

Ryōta turned on his heel, jogged down the remaining quarter of the field and pulled his focus on marking and stealing the ball. Ayako was seemingly completely over the matter that had transpired only a couple of days ago, and he couldn’t allow himself to linger on it, either.

Ryōta burst forward, intercepting a pass towards Rukawa and throwing it at Shiozaki, who- after a surprised glance- powered forward. But Ryōta had noticed already that his games plays weren’t on point today, but for a practice game it should suffice.

The whistle blew and Akagi held his hand up. The match was officially over. Ryōta stretched his arms and headed toward the bench loaded with refreshment. He didn’t need to glance at the scoreboard to know which side lost, Hanamichi’s loud grumbles made it clear enough.

He sipped from his bottle, listening to the buzzing chatter around him, occasionally chirping in and flashing a smile. He tried his best not look past Kogure’s head and catch glimpses of Ayako conversing with Akagi.

His heart tightened in his chest. He swallowed thickly and gazed at his shoes until an arm sneaked around his shoulder. Ryōta trailed the arm to find a turf of red hair, whose eyes narrowed into slits by pure irritation as he glared at Rukawa accusingly.

“If they passed the ball to me than a certain named noob, we would have won! Isn’t that right, Ryo-chin?”

Hanamichi’s expectant eyes fell on him, and Ryōta rolled his eyes, long since used to the rivalry between the two freshmen. He rolled the red-haired’s arm off his shoulder and headed toward the changing rooms. “I’m heading home first.”

“Uh,” the red haired blinked and muttered _sure_ seconds too late. His eyes fixed at the clock hanging on the adjacent wall, confusedly.

Practice was still on for another hour.

* * *

 

 

Ayako saw him leave from the corner of her eyes, her brows knitted momentarily at his early departure before her face softened when her thoughts landed on a certain letter she kept folded on her nightstand. His silhouette disappeared behind the door and her eyes lingered at the swinging doors.

“Ayako-san?”

Her head shot up, fastening on Akagi, his gaze sceptical with a tinge of concern as his eyes wandered towards the now, still standing doors. “Is there somewhere you need to go?”

Ayako stared at him for a moment before her gaze followed towards the door, and she wondered if anything good would come out of speaking to him now and decided against it. “Don’t mind that. What were you saying from before?”

Akagi didn’t look too convinced. “Is something wrong with Miyagi?”

“I—” she halted, wetted her lips as she reconsidered her response. They didn’t need to know what had happened between them. Their personal issues should be part of their extracurricular activities, so she shook her head and tried to act as neutral as possible.  “No, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with him.”

“Is that so? Akagi glanced at Anzai-sensei, who nodded back at him from his position on the bench, seemingly unperturbed by Miyagi’s sudden departure. “Then I hope his sudden disappearing won’t be a regular occurrence.”

“I hope so too.” Ayako knew from the very beginning that Ryōta began to play basketball because of his infatuation for her. She had hoped between games and practice, he would gain a burning passion for the sports itself, and _he had._ He had aimed to become the number one-point guard in the prefecture, and fully separated her from his ambition—from his reasons to play the sport. So, even if it went south between the two of them, she had hoped he would remain a part of the team, regardless.

Had she hoped for too much?

Had she underestimated the intensity of his feelings for her?

Could he barely stand to be in the same room as her?

Ayako chewed on her lips as she sat down, the thoughts roaming inside her mind droned out the incessant squeaks of shoes against the polished floor as practice recommenced.

Her eyes wandered towards the door, and her leg suddenly twitched. She placed a hand on it, pushing it down, quieting the quivers under the palm of her hand. It wasn’t her place to check on him. She tightened her trembling hands into fists, repeating inside her mind that he was probably changing in the locker room, anyway. It wasn’t like she could suddenly waltz in there.

What good will seeing him bring anyway?

_I’ll only make it worse._

She had learned that from her last attempt. Speaking to him was futile.  

Ayako took a deep breath and flexed her fingers, reasoning that there was nothing she could do except give it time. He would get over it soon enough.

She sighed and gazed up, catching from her peripheral vision the coach watching her.

“You may check up on him.”

 _What?_ Her eyes fastened on him, quite surprised. “That’s not necessary. I think, he’s fine.”

“It’s an order from Anzai-sensei, Ayako-san.” Mitsui butted in, from across the court without looking at her, marking the person behind him. “Are you disobeying him?”

Ayako swallowed and wetted her lips as she glanced back at the coach, who was simply staring at her, encouragingly. Sighing, she stood up, walking calmly toward the door despite her legs itching to run after it swung shut behind her.

She breathed out quietly and knocked on the boys’ changing room thrice and waited for a response that never came. Carefully, she opened the door and glimpsed inside, wondering whether he had left already when she saw his silhouette at the corner of his room, shirtless, hair dripping wet from a shower, and his school trousers hanging on his hips, unzipped with his trunks peeking out.

Ayako swallowed and moved quietly to tap his shoulder. “Ryōta?”

“Ayako,” his eyes fastened on him, his brows furrowing confusedly. “What you doing here? It’s an all men area.”

“The others wanted me to check up on you. Are you alright?” she said, fighting down her own worry when something flickered in his eyes.

 _Figures._ She didn’t come to see him on her own accord. He should be expecting that, and yet his heart still thumped inside his chest from anticipation, and he wondered _when_ it would stop, and _if_ it would ever stop.

Ryōta cleared his throat, reaching for a white singlet he normally wore under his shirt. “Then tell them not to worry. I’m fine.”

Something about his voice told her he wasn’t fine. Ayako bit the inside of her cheek. “I can’t exactly trust that, can I? What I’m seeing right now and what you’re telling me doesn’t exactly fit,” she pointed at him from top to bottom. His tiredness was indisputably evident. She could tell all he wanted was to leave, or perhaps did he want her to leave—?

“I said I’m fine, didn’t I?” Ryōta sighed loudly and slammed his locker shut. “You trust me on the court, so you can trust me now too.” He grabbed his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Ayako’s heart thumbed in her chest, his words pierced like sharp knifes through his skin. There were many things she wanted to say but from them all she chose the one that will least give her away. “You’re not acting like yourself and you know it. As your manager, I’m telling you to sort it out. Next time you’re on court play like you always do, will you?”

He wanted to laugh, to get rid of the acidic feeling in his mouth, but he only kept his mouth firmly shut and zipped his fly as he walked past her. Silently, he closed the door behind him and leaned on it. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't stand seeing her looking at him like this, so worried as though she cared. Her expressions and kind eyes still leaped his heart in his chest, and it hurt ( _hurt hurt hurt)._ He wondered whether it would ever _stop_ —wondered if _he_ could ever stop. 

Ryōta sighed and adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He wouldn’t add up to his mistakes. Ayako wasn’t interested. She made it clear enough for him, holding on to any kind of hope would be lunatic. It wasn’t healthy for him, neither for his heart. He had learnt his lesson. There was never a chance for him to carry such a beauty in his arms, much less hold hands with. 

And despite that— _despite all that_ —he was in love with her.

_Like an idiot._

Ryōta sighed and pushed off from the door and left.

* * *

 

The door clinked shut.

Ayako leaned against his locker and closed her eyes, calming her breathing as the lids of her eyes burned, and she thought of his eyes, of the undecipherable emotions glinting in his amber eyes the second he saw her, and she remembered the resignation and tiredness of his posture as though her sole existent was draining his energy.

Their interactions were already few and far between since yesterday, and if they kept it up, surely the rest of the team would catch up with it. It would eventually ruin the team atmosphere and their might be dynamic take damage as well.

There was no chance of them being friends after this—not when her entire existence was hurting him.

Ayako chewed on her lips. She would have to minimise contact without avoiding him. It would be difficult since there was practice and classes, but she would have to try her best. There’s nothing else she could do. The proximity between them would hurt him regardless, she could only hope that he heals more than hurt.

Ayako sighed and tightened her ponytail, slightly wondering why he had to be serious about it now. He was one of the basketball players and she their manager, even as she was his classmate their relationship should have strictly adhered to these roles—nothing else.  

She knew from the start that this type of love didn’t belong at the court. For the next couple of days— _weeks, months_ —it would only scatter awkwardness around the team atmosphere and ruining the dynamic, and they _weren’t_ even breaking up. It was only a case of _unrequited love._

Ayako squeezed her eyes shut.

It was an impossibility from the start.

There’s no way she could tell him— _I like you too—_ with so much on stakes. For the sake of the team, she had banned herself from viewing him any more than a team member, and he needed to do the same.

For the sake of the team, he needed to forget her too.

He should see her as any more than a manager, and not as a girl he could have been with, at a different time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been thinking about writing Ayako’s response since I’ve read your reviews. I think, it’s only fair if I provide her point of view as well. But I’m not quite sure what she thinks about Miyagi. Of course, I ship them, but they weren’t the focus of the manga (which I love by the way!).   
> On my take, the only reason she rejected him at the beginning was because she didn’t know him well. Ryōta also didn’t come off as very serious about her after he tried (and failed) to get along with other girls. 
> 
> But they became reasonably close friends toward the end of the manga anyway, so there is obviously potential.   
> But this two-shot will probably end there as unrequited love, as sadly as it sounds. But I hope, you have enjoyed it anyway!


End file.
